


Late Night Phone Call

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Professor Dean Winchester AU [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Professor Dean Winchester, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Winchester and the reader deal with an unexpected occurrence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Phone Call

In my experience, a ringing phone in the middle of the night was never a good thing, never good news. So my first instinct when my phone started to ring at two in the morning was to not answer it. Delay the inevitable. But something was ingrained in me, an incessant need to please which had me answering my phone, despite the time and the unfamiliar number.

“Yeah?” I grumbled as way of greeting.

“May I please speak to Professor Winchester?” an authoritative voice asked.

“Speaking,” I replied, pushing myself to a seated position on the bed, rubbing a hand over my face.

“Sir, my name is Officer Gordon. I’m sorry to call you so late, but do you know a young lady by the name of Y/N Y/L/N?” the man on the other end of the phone asked.

That name shot directly into the center of my brain and brought me fully awake. “Yes, I do,” I answered.

“Again, I apologize for the late hour, but the young lady in question was attacked this evening -” Officer Gordon said.

“What?” I snapped. I stumbled to my feet, grabbed the nearest pair of jeans, and struggled to put them on one handed.

“-at The Percolator,” Gordon continued without missing a beat. “Your number was the only local number in her phone. She’s in the hospital. We were hoping -”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I answered.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” the officer said. “We really appreciate it.”

I disconnected the call and hurried to finish getting dressed. I brushed my teeth, took a couple of Tylenol to combat the headache pulsing behind my eyes and ran down the stairs. My keys were in my jacket, which took me longer to remember than I would have liked, but I was fighting a hangover and that stupid mild head injury from the fight I’d been in. By the time I got in the Impala, nearly five minutes had passed.

It was fortunate that the streets were empty in the middle of the night, because I paid no attention to traffic laws as I made my way to the only hospital in our small town. I parked near the emergency entrance, tucking my keys in my pocket as I hurried inside. I saw a police officer almost as soon as I walked into the hospital. He pointed me to the officer in charge, the one who had called me, Officer Gordon.

“Officer Gordon?” I said as I approached him. “I’m Dean Winchester.”

“Mr. Winchester, thank you for coming,” he said, extending his hand. He looked me up and down, taking in the injuries to my face. “Is the young lady in question your student or -” He stopped before going any further, waiting for my answer.

“She used to be,” I explained. “We’re...um...friends?” It was a question, rather than the answer I’d intended to give. I’d spent so long hiding the true nature of our relationship that I couldn’t answer honestly.

Officer Gordon nodded as if he understood. He gestured for me to follow him down the hallway, stopping in front of a set of elevators. He was quiet until we stepped onto it and he hit the button to go up.

“Ms. Y/L/N was working this evening at the coffee shop near the university,” he explained. “Just before midnight, two people entered the building and, from what we can piece together, they robbed the establishment. We believe Ms. Y/L/N attempted to resist, though we aren’t sure what exactly happened - there are no security cameras and no one else was there - but she was injured. She sustained a severely sprained wrist, a concussion, and several lacerations to her face and body. We believe the assailants may have had a weapon, as she has several knife wounds to her torso that required stitches.”

My heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest. I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck as we stepped from the elevator. “Was she -?” I couldn’t finish the sentence, but I was seeing red at the thought.

Officer Gordon seemed to understand, immediately shaking his head. “No, we believe the only intent was to rob the shop. The assailants fled when she managed to dial 9-1-1 on her cell phone.” He pointed down the hall, past a long counter where several nurses sat. “She’s in a private room, sleeping. We haven’t been able to get in touch with any of her family members. As I said on the phone, you were the only local number in her cell phone, but you were also the only emergency contact listed on her paperwork at the coffee house.” Officer Gordon stopped in front of a door tucked at the end of a dim hallway. “She’s in here. When she wakes up, we are going to want to talk to her.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to me. “Please contact me as soon as that happens.”

I took the card, watching as he walked away. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I suspected I was going to see on the other side of the door. It was dark inside, the only light coming from the emergency lights above the bed. I could just make out Y/N in the bed. She had an oxygen tube in her nose, wires running from a machine near her head underneath her hospital gown, and an IV in the back of her hand. Her other arm was wrapped in a brace. I moved further into the room, quietly pushing the door closed. Y/N and I had nearly matching faces - a cut lip and bruised cheekbones, though she had several additional abrasions on her face as well. I clenched my fists at my side, inadvertently crushing Officer Gordon’s business card. Overwhelming guilt flooded me. If only I’d been there for her.

By the time I reached her side, I’d taken note of every one of the injuries I could see. I sat in the chair at the side of her bed, brushed my fingers over her hand, then curled my pinky finger around hers. I had no plans to move until she woke up.

* * *

I heard the change in the heart monitor before I felt any movement. I had only been dozing, not really sleeping, my own body completely tuned to every move, every sound that Y/N made. When the beeping of the monitor began to significantly speed up, my eyes opened immediately, my feet falling to the floor from where they had been propped on the end of the bed.

Y/N was thrashing in the bed, her head tossing back and forth, her hair falling across her face, her hands clutching the blankets as if they were a lifeline. She was crying, tears sliding down her face, her entire body shaking in what could only be described as fear. I leaned over her and gently grasped her shoulders.

“Y/N, it’s okay, you’re safe,” I whispered. “I’m right here, baby. You’re okay.”

“Dean?” she breathed. Her eyes snapped open and darted around the room. “Why...why am I in the hospital?”

I quickly explained what little I could, basically everything that Officer Gordon had told me. The nurse came in just a few minutes later, probably because the alarms had given her an alert of some kind. She hurried to Y/N’s side, pressing buttons and adjusting the tubes and wires.

“Could you give us a minute, love?” she asked me.

I nodded, standing to leave, but Y/N caught my hand in hers, a panicked look in her eyes. I stepped back to the side of the bed, cupped her face in my hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth.

“Look at me, Y/N,” I ordered. “I am not going anywhere. I will be right outside the door. I promise.”

She nodded, but that terrified look was still in her eyes. I stepped into the hallway, pulling my phone from my pocket as I did. I shot a quick text message to Sam and another to Garth, then shoved it back in my pocket. I leaned against the wall, tapping my foot impatiently until the nurse came out.

“I’m guessing you’re Dean,” she said as she opened the door.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied.

“She’s asking for you,” she said. “I’d get back in there.” She smiled gently at me.

I pushed open the door and hurried to Y/N’s side, taking her hand as I sat down. She looked over at me, grimacing as she turned her head. “The nurse is calling the officer in charge.” She blinked and a tear slid down her cheek. “So I can give my statement. Will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” I answered, squeezing her hand.

* * *

The morning of the second day that Y/N was in the hospital, Meg showed up carrying a stuffed bear and a bouquet of flowers. She stopped short when she saw me sitting at Y/N’s bedside holding her hand, her brow furrowed in confusion.

I stood up and held out my hand. “You must be Meg,” I said. “I’m Dean, a friend of Y/N’s.”

“Don’t you work at the university?” she asked. her tone untrusting and suspicious.

“I do,” I replied. “I’m a professor there.” I left it at that, not wanting to assume anything, especially after I’d made such a show of ending my relationship with Y/N. I still wasn’t quite sure where we stood.

“Meg?” Y/N said.

Meg pushed past me, dropped her armload of gifts on the hospital bed and hugged Y/N, apologizing profusely. She settled into the chair beside the bed.  

I excused myself, promising to return as soon as possible. I used that time to make my first trip home in the past twenty-four hours. My phone had been blowing up with voicemails and messages, most of them from Garth, all of which I’d ignored. I sat on the edge of my bed, thumbing through my phone, debating whether or not to read the messages or just delete them. I’d given him a rather lame excuse as to why I hadn’t come in on Monday, asking him to take my classes because I was sick. He’d agreed, but that hadn’t stopped him from bombarding me with messages as the day progressed. I’d finally shut my phone off.

I opted to listen to my voicemails rather than read a bunch of incoherent text messages. The first message was from Garth, so I quickly skipped it. The next was from Sam, offering any help I might need. The next message left a huge lump of fear in the center of my chest.

“Professor Winchester, this is Gabriel Lange. We were supposed to meet today, I was supposed to audit your classes. Instead I arrived to find your teaching assistant teaching your class and no idea where you were. I recommend you get in touch with me immediately.” Gabriel made a disgusted noise before disconnecting the call.

“Shit,” I muttered. I’d completely forgotten. I dialed Lange’s number, hoping to explain myself, but I was dumped directly into his voicemail. I left a message, practically begging for a second chance. I started mentally ticking off my contacts at other universities, wondering if I could find a position for next semester.

I pushed all thoughts of the mess my life had become out of my head, wanting to clean up and get back to Y/N as quickly as possible.

By the time I got back to the hospital, Meg was gone. Y/N was asleep, curled on her side, her wounded arm held stiffly away from her body. The IV had been removed late the night before, though she still had wires attached to her upper torso. I settled into the chair by the bed and opened my book, though I didn’t really feel like reading. Instead I found myself watching Y/N as she slept.

Nearly an hour passed and I had begun considering heading down to the cafeteria for some coffee when my phone vibrated with a message from Sam.

“Dude, don’t hate me. It’s for your own good.”

Before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, a nurse stuck her head in the door. “You’re Professor Winchester, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I nodded.

“There’s someone here looking for you,” she said quietly. “Gabriel Lange?”

Confused, I pushed myself out of the chair and stepped outside. Lange was standing near the nurse’s station, watching me as I walked toward him. He met me halfway, his hand extended. I shook it, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck, fearful that his presence couldn’t mean anything good.

“Dean,” he said. “How are you?”

I grimaced and shrugged my shoulders. “Been better. Look, I was going to grab some coffee, care to join me? We can talk there.”

“Sounds good,” Gabe replied.

We walked in silence through the hospital to the cafeteria. I ordered a black coffee, while Lange ordered some sweetened coffee drink, then proceeded to add even more sugar once he had it in his hand. We took a seat at one of the hospital’s plain, plastic tables in the immensely uncomfortable chairs.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked.

“I spoke to Professor Campbell,” Gabriel explained. “He told me.”

That explained Sam’s cryptic text message. “Did he tell you why?” I asked.

“No, he said he would leave that to you,” Gabriel shrugged. “So, here I am. I’m giving you a chance to explain why you missed our meeting and all of your classes the day I was set to audit you.”

“It’s because of Y/N,” I said. “She -”

“The girl?” Gabriel snapped. “You’re kidding, right?” He pushed his chair back from the table. “I should have known. You really don’t give a shit about your future _or_ hers, do you?”

He started to stand, I’m sure to leave, taking everything I’d worked for, everything Y/N and I had worked for, with him.

“Gabe, wait,” I begged. “Give me a chance to explain. If you still think I should be fired after you hear what I have to say, then I will leave quietly. But I just want a chance to explain myself.”

Gabriel lowered himself back into his seat, picked up his coffee and gestured for me to continue. I started with my first meeting with Y/N and went from there, giving him as much detail as necessary for the situation, avoiding the more explicit information. By the time I finished talking, I had a pounding headache and I had finished my third cup of coffee.

Gabriel adjusted the collar of his shirt, drummed his fingers on the table, then he rose to his feet. “I’ll call you in the next couple of days, once I’ve made my decision.” And then he was gone.

I trudged back to Y/N’s room, hoping she would be awake. I just wanted to hold her hand, be in the same room with her for as long as I could. I still wasn’t sure how long that was going to last.

She was awake when I opened the door, sitting up, twisting her hands nervously in her lap, her face pale, tears in her eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked, hurrying to her side.

“Nightmare,” she muttered. “I keep dreaming about what happened and I’m scared, Dean. And you weren’t here and I got nervous -.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in mine. I rubbed my thumb back and forth over her knuckles, trying to calm her with just my presence.

She visibly relaxed after a few seconds. “The doctor was here,” she said, sniffling.

“Yeah, what did he say?” I inquired.

“I can leave tomorrow,” she said, picking at a piece of lint on the blanket covering her. “But he said I shouldn’t go back to the dorm alone. He wants to know if I have someplace I can go.” She concentrated very hard on that single piece of lint, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Y/N?” I took her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “What did you tell him?”

“I said no,” she murmured.

“Well, the next time he comes in here, you can tell him you have somewhere to go,” I replied. “Home with me.”

She pulled her chin out of my hand and returned to staring at the blanket. “Dean...you, um...you don’t have to do that,” Y/N whispered. “I appreciate you being here, staying with me while I’ve been in the hospital and being so sweet. You didn’t have to. I know that being with me isn’t what you want, that you and I are finished and I don’t want to ask you to do anymore. I’ll be fine.”

I caught her hands in mine, squeezing them gently. “Y/N, none of that is true. I love you, but I am an idiot,” I said. “I’m not saying things are different, that being with me won’t destroy you, ruin everything you’ve worked for. What I am saying is that I shouldn’t be the one to make that decision for you. You are your own woman, an adult who can make her own choices. I don’t have any right to take that away from you, any right to force you into something you don’t want.” I tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I made a mistake. I should have talked to you, we should have decided together what we wanted to do. I have no right to ask you to forgive me. But I need you to know that I love you and I’m sorry.” I cupped the back of her head in my hand and pressed my lips to her forehead. “Just...come home with me, take a few days to get better and then we’ll talk again.”

Y/N nodded, swiping at the tears on her face. She reached over and pressed the call button, summoning the nurse.

* * *

The doctor let Dean take you home the next day. He settled you on the couch, fussing over you, adjusting the blanket, getting you water, the remote, even a stack of books until you glared at him, muttering that you were fine.

Once he had you comfortable, he stepped into the kitchen, where you could hear him calling Garth. He was apologizing over and over, something about dumping his class load on the young man this close to the end of the semester, but that he needed just one more day. You felt awful, knowing it was because he didn’t want to leave you alone. You were sure Garth was understanding, even though you knew Dean didn’t tell him why he needed another day off. You heard him promise to tell Garth everything later. You wondered if that would really happen.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said when he returned to the living room. “Go back to work, I’ll be fine.”

“That sort of defeats the purpose of not leaving you alone,” Dean replied. “One more day won’t kill anyone.”

“What about Lange?” you asked. “Isn’t your audit supposed to be happening?”

“Nah, we’re good,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Dean -” you sighed, the lie he was telling obvious.

Dean was saved from any further questions by the doorbell ringing. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged before pulling aside the curtain to see who was standing outside.

He dropped the curtain, sighing heavily. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before opening the door. “This an unexpected surprise,” he said, his voice tight and strained.

“Dean,” the man standing at the door said. “Mind if I come in?”

Dean opened the door wide, gesturing for the man to come in. He was short, much shorter than Dean, though he carried himself like a man with authority. He stopped short when he saw you.

“Gabriel, this is Y/N Y/L/N,” Dean introduced you. “Y/N, this is Gabriel Lange, my auditor.”

You nodded at the man standing in front of you, the man who held Dean’s future in his hands, and perhaps, ultimately, yours. You swallowed nervously, your mouth dry. You twisted off the top on your water bottle and took a drink, your hands shaking.

“I came by to discuss your audit,” Gabriel said. He leaned nonchalantly against the archway wall between the kitchen and living room, so calm, so cool, not at all like he could ruin Dean’s life with just a few words. He looked between the two of you before speaking. “I canceled it. And I called Chuck, let him know that there is nothing to be concerned about. After we talked yesterday, I did a bit of research. You have a stellar record, Professor Winchester. Completely clean. I jumped to conclusions about you and I apologize for that. I’m glad you talked to me, explained your situation.” He nodded your way. “I’m sorry about your troubles, Miss Y/L/N. I hope I haven’t added to them.” He pushed himself away from the wall, shook Dean’s hand and nodded at you. “I’ll be filing my official report in the next couple of days. I wish both of you the best of luck.” Then he was gone, just as quickly as he had arrived, leaving you in stunned silence.

Dean crossed the room and dropped to the couch next to you. He pulled the blanket on the back of the couch over the two of you and tucked you against his side. He kissed your neck just below your ear, his lips sliding along your jaw until he reached your mouth. He licked carefully at your bottom lip, mindful of the split, until you let him in, sighing as his tongue danced over yours. He kissed you like you’d wanted him to kiss you since you woke up to find him sitting in your hospital room. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his arms around you.

“Can you ever forgive me?” he murmured.

“I’ll have to think about it,” you smiled. “Maybe you should try a little harder to persuade me?”

Dean moaned, squeezing his eyes closed for just a second, but then he shook his head. “No,” he grumbled. “Not while you’ve got these -.” His hands ghosted over the bandages covering the stitched cuts on your torso, then over the sprained arm. “And this.” He kissed you, soft and needy.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips.

Your heart swelled at the words, but you still felt an ache of worry deep in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to tell him you loved him too, but the words wouldn’t come. You bit your lip and nodded, brushing at the tears on your cheeks with your good hand.

* * *

Dean returned to work the next day and for the first few hours you were fine. You called your mother, reassuring her that you were fine, that you were well taken care of and that she didn’t need to come to town, especially this close to Christmas. You sent emails to all of your professors, briefly explaining what had happened, asking for their understanding. You received positive responses from all of them.

You thought you were doing pretty good, but as the day progressed, you felt more and more anxious. You found yourself watching the door, hoping Dean would come home early. Every unexpected sound made you jump, even your cell phone vibrating nearly sent you through the roof. You tried to nap, watch TV, anything, but instead you found yourself pacing the kitchen, shooting occasional glances at the garage door.

When he finally came through the door, you threw yourself into his arms, burying yourself against his chest, breathing in his scent, drawing comfort from him. His arms wrapped around you and he held you, running his hands up and down your back, murmuring sweetly. You didn’t let him out of your sight the rest of the night.

The rest of the week progressed in much the same way, until you thought you would go out of your mind. You needed to get out, breathe some fresh air, so you got dressed and pulled on your heavy jacket. With no destination in mind, you started walking. It felt good to be outside and out of the house. You were halfway to The Percolator before you realized where you were going.

You stood outside the door, not sure you wanted to go in, not even sure you could. You’d been having flashbacks all week of the night you were attacked, of the men entering the shop, one of them wielding a knife, threatening you. You’d tried to run away, cut through the kitchen and out the back, but they’d  grabbed you and shoved you to the ground, cutting you in the process, demanding you open the safe. You couldn’t even remember how you’d managed to get away long enough to call 9-1-1, all you could remember was fear and pain overwhelming you.

You took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Brady was making drinks and Meg was at the register. A wide smile spread across her face when you entered and she hurried around the counter to give you a tight hug. Brady waved at you, but kept working.

You spent almost an hour in the coffee shop, talking to Meg and sipping a latte. You still felt a little off and you couldn’t bring yourself to go behind the counter, but being out of Dean’s house and working towards recovering from what had happened seemed to make you feel better.

By the time you got back to Dean’s you were exhausted, the emotions of the day catching up with you. You tossed your jacket on the couch as you passed it on your way up the stairs, stopping just long enough to slip off your socks and shoes and the jeans you’d been wearing before dropping onto the bed in Dean’s room and falling almost immediately asleep.

A warm body curling around you woke you from the deep sleep you’d fallen into. Soft lips pressed kisses to the back of your neck. You opened your eyes, turning to look over your shoulder into a set of gorgeous green eyes.

“Hey, you didn’t answer your phone,” Dean whispered.

“Hmm, I must have left it downstairs,” you replied.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m good,” you smiled, actually feeling like you might be.

“That’s great,” he said. He kissed you on the corner of your mouth. “I’m going to get us some food.” He scooted toward the side of the bed.

You grabbed Dean’s hand and held it tightly. “Stay here,” you murmured, turning to face him. “Just for a few minutes.” You pushed yourself closer to him. “It’s time we talked.”

Dean sighed heavily and rested his hand on your waist. “Do you hate me?” His thumb rubbed circles in the bare skin under the edge of your t-shirt.

You rested your good hand on the side of his face, the short hairs of his beard scratching against your palm. You kissed him, drawing it out, making it last. “Of course I don’t hate you,” you murmured. “I love you and I understand what you were trying to do, as screwed up as it was. But I can’t keep doing this...this thing where we have to hide what we have. I love you, but this is killing me. And I think it’s doing the same to you.” You brushed your hand up his face and through his hair, kissing him lightly on the mouth. “I don’t know what to do, Dean.”

“I’ve asked so much from you the last few months,” Dean said. “And I’m sorry. I was worried about myself and what would happen to me if anyone found out about us. I knew there would be consequences for both of us, but I downplayed yours, told myself that it wasn’t as bad as what I would have to deal with should we be discovered. I was stupid and selfish. But I’m done with that. I love you and I don’t care anymore who knows.”

“Really?” you gasped in shock. It was what you’d hoped, but not what you’d expected.

“I’m not saying we’ll be running around the campus declaring our love from the rooftops, but I’m done hiding it. We’ll figure it out as we go. But no more secrets and no more lies from this point on.” Dean took a deep breath, his fingers tightening on your waist. “Okay?”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, nodding. “Okay,” you breathed.

Dean pulled you closer, one hand sliding up and under your shirt, splaying over your back.He kissed you, a deep, soul-consuming kiss that made your toes curl. You threw your leg over his, your body flush against his.

He pushed your shirt up and off, cupping your breast in one hand, kneading it gently. A deep shuddering moan moved through you, goosebumps erupting all over your skin as the cool air in the room hit you. You arched your back, pushing yourself up and into his hand. Dean reached around your back and unhooked your bra, pulling it slowly down your arms as he rolled you to your back. He kissed a trail down your neck, between your breasts, caressing each of the wounds on your torso with his lips and tongue. Not surprisingly, he was very gentle, the touch of his lips to your stomach feather light, but still driving you nearly wild with need. His hand slid down your stomach and into your panties, his fingers dancing over you, sliding through the silken folds, tenderly massaging you.

You sighed, carded your fingers through his hair and closed your eyes, letting the sensations take you over. Dean hooked a finger in your panties and pulled them off of you, slowly moving down your body, kissing every inch of skin. He slid his hand under your thigh, lifting your leg and pulling it over his shoulder. He rained kisses all over your inner thighs, interspersing them with gentle bites and licks, until you were on fire with desire. You were ready to beg when his tongue slowly licked a long stripe with his flattened tongue through the lips of your wet pussy.

“Dean,” you gasped, your hips bucking up to meet his mouth.

He lifted you, pulling you up to meet his mouth, his tongue delving deep inside of you, nearly sending you over the edge. He moaned, low in the back of his throat, pulling away just long enough to growl, “Jesus, baby,” before he was back between your legs, his tongue and fingers pushing you to new heights of ecstasy. It didn’t take long before you were coming, hard, screaming Dean’s name as the waves of pleasure consumed you. When he finally released you, you were a boneless mess, barely able to move. He kissed his way back up your body, stopping to briefly suckle your breasts, before moving to your neck, up your jaw to your mouth. The taste of your slick on his lips brought another moan out of you and you wanted him, wanted him so badly that you thought you might explode with need. Frantically you fumbled at the buttons on his jeans, pulling them open and shoving them down past his hips.

Dean sat up, kneeled between your legs and hurriedly removed his clothes. He rolled you to your side, wrapped his arms around you, pulled your leg over his waist and pushed his cock inside you, his hips rolling agonizingly slow. You dug your nails into his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he moved with tight, hard thrusts.

He slipped his hand between your bodies, easily finding your clit, rubbing the swollen nub of nerves as he fucked into you. You were close, ready to orgasm almost immediately, his touch sending tingles of fire through every nerve. He caught your lips in his, licking gently at the now healing cut on your lip until you opened your mouth and then he was kissing you, the rhythm of his tongue matching that of the slip and slide of his cock in and out of your warm heat.

You wanted him, wanted to feel every inch of him inside you, needing him so badly you felt tears in the corner of your eyes as every feeling you’d been holding back rushed to the forefront. The damn broke, the orgasm slamming into you, black starbursts going off behind your eyes, warmth flooding you.  

Dean was panting, his hips pumping faster and faster until he let go with a growl of your name. He pulled you down onto him, his hips tipping up several more times before he relaxed with a loud sigh. He rolled to his back, pulling you with him. He pulled the blankets on the bed over you, keeping you wrapped in his arms. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands running over your bare skin.

You felt warm and safe. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

“For what?” Dean murmured sleepily.

“For finally coming to your senses,” you answered. “I love you, Professor Winchester.”

He was quiet for a few minutes, so quiet you thought he had fallen asleep, until he spoke. “I love it when you call me that,” he whispered.

 


End file.
